Vampire Ménage by G. G. Royale
This was some way to spend her Halloween birthday. Driving home after a long day of washing dishes left Marissa rattled and thirsty. Driving on the foggy, winding road left her frustrated, and it only got better once her car veered off the road into a ditch. Wait! What is that green haze above the swampland?
Two strangers with unusually long teeth and manicured fingernails; Caleb and Dahlia, stopped and offered Marissa a ride. Marissa and Dahlia got “acquainted” in the backseat. The trio where they soon ended up in a mansion where an opulent Halloween party was in full swing. When Marissa’s is asked what she would like for her birthday, she smiled as she thought about a fantasy that would make her birthday complete…
Erotica/Short Story, 7000 words. Adult material.
When her shift washing dishes ended, Marissa started east down the highway toward home. A walk of nearly a mile lay ahead, and her feet already ached from her ten-hour shift at the roadhouse. Ten hours and no overtime.
Marissa hugged herself, pulling her sleeves over her hands. Fog crawled through the trees to the left and right of the highway. The damp, which seemed at first welcoming, now seeped into her bones, and soon she shivered with it. She picked up her speed; at least home offered her some kind of comfort even if she hated the dark house. It still smelled of her dead father and his rank, sour drunkenness.
Something squelched and splashed in the swamp to her right. She stopped and peered into the darkness, expecting to see the moonlight gleaming off the scales of a snake or alligator. But she noticed nothing.
And then she saw it. A glow: a greenish, floating light in the distance, bobbing just above the level of the swamp. Marissa couldn’t tear her eyes from the phenomenon. She knew on some level that she could easily explain it as some swamp gas, ignited by static electricity or something. But it also moved her on a deeper level. It reminded her of the magic she thought existed as a child. Magic that she’d stopped believing in years and years before.
When she finally turned her gaze back on the road, headlights cut into her eyes. She raised her hand to shield them and ducked back from the road. She teetered for a moment on the edge of the ditch that ran parallel to the highway, and then fell back into the soupy miasma at the bottom. Cold water quickly percolated through her clothing. She sat at the bottom of the ditch and felt sorry for herself. She realized she’d probably get sick now. Maybe lose her job because she wouldn’t make it to work. The collection agencies would start to call again…
“Happy fucking birthday to me!” she cried out into the darkness, and from a nearby tree, a flock of birds took flight.
Silence reigned in the swamp after, but then a strange sound broke into it: an idling engine. She inhaled. At least the person saw her go down. Maybe the driver would help her out.
She watched the edge of the ditch, waiting to see someone step into view. She hoped it was just some workaholic headed in early, rather than some creepy night-shift worker headed home. Like me.
Marissa realized things squirmed in the muck around her, and she finally pushed out. She stood there, ankle deep, and now she could just see the car perched on the road, idling.
An old black maria crouched there: long, polished… It’s engine thrumming. Marissa pulled herself from the mud, back onto the pavement, and she could feel its power coming up through the soles of her shoes. She looked east, expecting to see the first glimmer of dawn now at least, but still it remained dark. She glanced back at the car. She couldn’t see through the tinted windows in the back. After another moment of standing there, staring at her sad, pale reflection in the window, Marissa heard the car shift, and it pulled back onto the highway, headed west, away from her.
She stood and watched its red taillights fade into the night. “Dick,” she said after it. Over half a mile to go before home, and now nasty swamp water had soaked through her clothes. She’d end up cold, miserable, and probably chafed.
Marissa sighed and started walking toward home again. What a super start to my special day, she thought. Maybe someone will stab me through the heart too. That would be just super.
She wrapped her arms around her again as she walked, but that offered little comfort. To make matters worse, a cool wind kicked up, blowing right through her damp clothes. Marissa shivered. Her teeth chattered. With her gaze on her feet, each step a challenge, she saw her shadow grow and stretch out ahead of her. She raised her eyes and turned her head. Headlights again, cutting through the darkness, coming toward her.
The maria pulled even with her and rolled to a stop. This time, the rear passenger door opened. Marissa watched, sure that the newcomer would hear the sound of her teeth clicking. She thought for a moment about running. Who knew what would emerge from the large, black car?
Finally, a tall, pale man emerged. He wore an impeccably tailored suit of black, and his hair matched in shade and fineness of cut.
Marissa felt self-conscious in her muddy jeans and second-hand nylon jacket. She pulled the cuffs down over her hands too, to cover the red, raw skin that showed she washed dishes for a living.
The man smiled slightly, showing his teeth a little, and Marissa noticed his eyeteeth were just a smidge longer than the rest and a little pointed. Not outside natural human morphology, certainly, but enough to hint at wicked, vampirical things. Her stomach did a little flip.
“Happy Halloween!” he said, his voice rich and deep.
“What are you waiting for, Caleb?” came a high, singsong voice from within the maria.
“Patience, Dahlia,” the man said, ducking his head slightly toward the interior. “These things take patience.” He leveled his gaze on Marissa, and Marissa felt her cheeks heat under the intensity. “I do apologize. It took me some time to convince Dahlia that we’d be in the wrong to drive off.” He stepped forward and offered his hand. Marissa couldn’t help but notice the finely manicured nails, each alabaster finger ending in a softly rounded point. The crazy idea came to her that she would very much like to feel those nails run up and down her back as she rode this man standing before her. She wondered if they would cut skin…
About the Author
G.G. Royale grew up in a small town on the Central Coast of California. She started writing erotica while in college. Her inspiration came from reading a copy of Anais Nin’s Little Birds while traveling abroad.
She began working as an editor of erotic romance in 2004 with Liquid Silver Books. In 2006, she moved to Loose Id, LLC, where she still works.
Currently, she lives in the Deep South. Ms. Royale has had many short stories published under various names. She has more books in the works, and a few stories about goddesses walking the earth.
Vampire Menage by GG Royale
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